Superman
by Ohgollyitsmolly
Summary: Darry's musings about what happened in the book. Sort of a one-shot but no plot really, just what's going on in Darry's head. My first fanfic - please read and review!


I wouldn't admit it to anyone, except maybe Soda, but for a while I was absolutely terrified of the telephone.

I wasn't supposed to be scared of anything. I was the man of the house now, all grown up, working two jobs to support my kid brothers, raising them on my own. Hell, I hadn't even cried at Mom and Dad's funeral - I understood how important it was to be strong, for myself and for Soda and Ponyboy, and I reckoned it was best to start being strong as quickly as possible, starting with not crying at the funeral. The gang called me Superman for the muscles I was so proud of. But I prided myself not only on my physical strength, but my emotional strength, too. Superman wasn't afraid. Superman had it all under control. I knew my brothers and the gang all counted on me as a pretty steady, cool headed presence, and lord knows I needed to keep up that facade. Otherwise I'd break. My strength was what I had. My not being afraid of things, at least on the outside, was important to all of us.

Of course, it was an act. It was true, I was pretty strong, and I could handle a lot, which was the result of having been through a lot. But I was terrified. I really was. When Mom and Dad died, and I became the man of the house - the one in charge of keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads and Pony and Soda out of jail or the boy's home - I was scared shitless, on the inside. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't want this much responsibility. I was scared of Soda and Pony because now I had to keep them safe, and I never did feel quite up to the task. I couldn't stand to lose either of them to the boy's home. They and the gang were the only ones keeping me sane and stable, and I needed them just like they needed me. I knew what Pony thought of me. I knew he thought I didn't understand him, even that I didn't like him. That nearly killed me inside. I loved Soda and Pony more than I loved anyone else in the entire world. I couldn't stand the idea that they might not know that. But I also needed Ponyboy to do well in school, and to stay out of trouble and all, and if he couldn't use his head, I knew I could lose him. So his thinking I didn't like him beat the alternative.

I think Soda understood. He never said anything right out about my being scared, scared of anything happening to him or Pony, scared because I didn't know what I was doing but the lives of the people I loved rested on my doing it well. He never said anything right out, because he had enough sense to know he couldn't. He was still my kid brother, and I still had to keep up the illusion that I wasn't afraid, that Superman had it all under control. But he understood, and I knew he understood. Sometimes, when I was having a rough day, and my brothers and the gang were the only things keeping me from breaking down and bawling, he would just treat me differently. He'd be more gentle. He'd make us a chocolate cake and badger Ponyboy about his homework so I wouldn't have to, and then he'd challenge me to a game of poker or something and let me win and we'd talk and I'd end up grinning in spite of myself, because it was so good to have someone who understood. Soda always said he was dumb, and I considered it one of my worst failings that I had let him drop out of school, but Soda wasn't dumb. Maybe he wasn't book smart like Pony, but he understood things better than just about anyone. He knew what the world was like and he loved it anyway. I loved that about Sodapop.

I was terrified when Ponyboy had been gone so long that night when it all started. A thousand scenarios played through my mind, scenarios where he'd been kidnapped or picked up by the fuzz or was dead in a ditch somewhere. I wanted help. I wanted Mom and Dad to be there - they'd know what to do. But I didn't know anything. All I knew was that the more time I let slip by, the less chance I had of saving Ponyboy from whatever was going on. And I knew that if I called the cops, they could put Soda and Pony in a boys home. Either way, I could lose one or both of my brothers, and there wasn't anything in the world scarier than that. So when Pony came home, and he'd just been asleep in the lot, my emotions took over, and I hit him. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't. I did it because I loved him more than anything and I was so scared and so relieved and I'd spent so long pretending not to be scared that the only emotion left was anger. Really, I wasn't trying to hit Pony as much as I was trying to hit myself. I could feel myself failing at the most important thing in my life, raising my brothers. Hitting Ponyboy didn't really help that, but in my defense, it was two in the morning and I was scared and confused and relieved and sad and angry and so many other things that I couldn't even think straight.

Dragging myself out of bed the next morning was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. Part of me had been hopeful that Ponyboy had snuck in after Soda and I had gone back to bed, but I checked, and with a sinking feeling realized that Pony was still gone, and that I had no idea where he was or what to do next. Soda was worried out of his mind, and it didn't help when we found out that Johnny was missing, too. Dally claimed he didn't know where they were, but neither Soda or I believed him for even a second. The idea that Dally might know where they were made it a little better, because I figured if they were dead, he wouldn't be quite so calm about it all. Soda wrote Pony a letter and gave it to Dally and Dally took it, even though he still said he didn't know where they were. The police came by and we told them everything we knew, which was pretty much nothing. They mostly left us alone, and were working pretty hard to find Johnny and Ponyboy. Still, it was hard for the whole gang. And needless to say, it was hardest of all for me and Soda. Soda cried a lot for those few days. I did too, to tell you the truth, but mostly at night, when Soda was the only one to see or hear me. Soda and Pony usually slept together, and I slept in a different room, but while Pony was gone, I slept in his and Soda's bed, with Soda. Actually, we were worried and sad and didn't really get much sleep at all, but you know what I mean. I needed someone with me, someone who understood, and besides, we needed more room to sleep in the house. Two-Bit and Steve and even Dally stayed over at our house pretty much every night while Pony and Johnny were gone. I think we all needed each other, to tell you the truth.

I was getting real worried, but there wasn't really too much I could do at that point, and I was trying to keep it together as much as I could, for the sake of all of us. Things got kind of rough with the Socs. We were used to a rivalry, but after Johnny and Pony killed the Soc, we could hardly even walk around without a blade. A couple days after the Soc got killed some of his buddies jumped Two-Bit, and Dally and I showed up to chase them off, but of course ol Two-Bit didn't much need the help. Still, things were getting worse, and they hadn't been too great to start with.

But then a couple days later that first phone call came, from the hospital, telling us that Pony and Johnny were there. They didn't give us a whole lot of information, especially considering that my kid brother and one of our gang had been missing for four or five days, but they did say there had been a fire. Johnny, Pony, and Dally - so Dally HAD known where the other boys were - had been hurt in the fire, and we needed to come right away.

I damn near lost it when we got that phone call. Initially, I was just glad to hear that we'd be able to see Pony again. But then, I realized that he was hurt, and had been in a fire, and it all hit me again. I could lose him. My youngest kid brother, who I'd tried so hard to do well by, who I'd sacrificed so much for - I could lose him like we lost Mom and Dad. I really did think I'd lost him. I told Soda, a sick feeling creeping up into my throat. Something was terribly wrong. I didn't think I'd be able to handle it if we lost Pony. And on top of that, Johnny and Dally, two of our gang, two more people I considered like brothers. Soda and I sped all the way to the hospital. We were too worried to pay attention to things like speed limits or even stop signs. We were off to the hospital to see our brother, who was hurt from a fire. He could have minor burns. He could be dead. We didn't have any way of knowing until we got there.

I'm not sure when I started crying. But somewhere between when we got the phone call and when we got to the hospital, it hit me that my most important job in my entire life was to keep my brothers safe, and it hit me that there was a good chance I'd failed. And sometime after that realization, I started bawling like a baby. By the time we got to the hospital, I had it together enough to function and show my face in public, but I knew it was only a matter of time before the tears came back. I was more scared than I had ever been. I was preparing myself for the worst, or at least trying to, but I knew nothing could prepare me. If tonight was the night I would lose Ponyboy, I didn't think I could go on. Soda by my side was the only thing keeping me from running out of that hospital, screaming bloody murder. He was the only reason I could walk up those stairs to see Pony, Johnny, and Dally.

I remember when we saw Pony for the first time since I'd hit him, other than in the newspaper and all. I'd steeled myself for the worst, but he was just sitting there in the waiting room, talking to some guy and smoking a cigarette. He looked different, because his hair was short and blonde and he looked kind of ridiculous, and he also looked like he'd aged about ten years over the past few days. He saw Soda first, and I watched his eyes light up, like he'd gotten those ten years back, and Soda, of course, swept him up into the kind of swinging bear hug that made me wonder if Pony could even breathe. Then he saw me. I was crying again - I could feel the tears on my cheeks, and was trying my hardest not to start sobbing. Ponyboy stared at me for the longest three or four seconds of my life. But then he yelled my name, and ran at me and enveloped me in the best hug I could ever remember receiving. I hugged him right back, silently sobbing now, and I knew Ponyboy could feel me sobbing, but I was glad he could, because there weren't words for how I felt right then, and the only way I could tell Ponyboy how much I loved him, and how scared I had been, was by sobbing silently as I held him close. I really had thought we had lost him. Having his skinny little body back in my arms was even better than I could have imagined.

Of course, Dally was alright; Dally would always be alright, we thought back then. Dally would always land on his feet. Johnny wasn't doing so well. I knew he might not make it. I had spent so much time trying to come to terms with the idea of Pony's death that I didn't completely lose it over the idea of Johnny's, but he was still one of our gang, and it still hurt that he was so badly off. We needed Johnny to make it. We really did.

So we took Pony home, and I slept better than I'd slept in a long time, knowing I had both my kid brothers back safe and sound. The rest of the gang didn't sleep at our house that night, but the house didn't feel lonely, like you might think. It felt good, actually, because it seemed like things were sort of back to normal. And then the next day was pretty good, because other than Johnny and Dally in the hospital, our gang felt more together than it had been in a long time, and the gang was so happy to see Pony that it made the rest of it feel sort of okay. And then we had the rumble, and I fought harder than ever, because now I was fighting for Pony and Johnny and Dally, but especially Pony. I think that was the reason we won. We were fighting for the people we loved, and we were fighting because we were tired of having them taken away from us. And if that isn't good motivation to fight hard, I don't know what is.

After the rumble, Pony and Dally rushed off to go see Johnny in the hospital, and the rest of the gang came back to our place, and we sat around and played cards and talked and ate chocolate cake but mostly we just worried. And then Ponyboy came in saying that Johnny was dead, and the idea that that was even possible had hardly even hit yet, and we knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Getting along without Johnny was going to be one of the hardest things our gang had ever done, harder than fighting the Socs or putting up with all our rough breaks or any of that. Getting along without Johnny was going to be a long, slow, and painful process, and we all knew it.

But before we had too long to let that all sink in, the second phone call came. It was Dally. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the last time I'd ever hear Dally's voice. He asked for us to hide him, and we met him at the lot, and right as we got there, he pulled out his unloaded gun and the police shot him down. And just like that, we lost not just one, but two of our gang, all in the course of an hour or so. And if you don't think that's one of the hardest things in the whole world to deal with, well, then you don't know what it feels like to love people more than you love yourself. You don't know what community is.

After that, I was scared of the telephone. All in one week, I got two phone calls - one telling me that I might lose my little brother, and the other, the last time I'd ever speak to one of my best friends in the world. It wasn't that I was scared of the telephone itself. It's just that every time it rang, a little voice in my head told me that when I answered it, someone might tell me that I had lost someone I loved. There was nothing scarier in the whole world. But then, I couldn't just avoid answering the phone. After all, Superman isn't afraid of anything. Superman has it all under control. At least, he's supposed to.


End file.
